


To Taste Your Beating Heart

by smithereen



Category: Jonas Brothers
Genre: Dubious Consent, Feral Joe, M/M, Sibling Incest, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-05-30 23:46:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19413979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithereen/pseuds/smithereen
Summary: Tarzan AU. Joe is lost in the jungle as a baby, and Nick is his prim little prince of a brother.





	To Taste Your Beating Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ in January 2011.

Nicholas Jonas, the Earl of Greystoke, stood on the deck and held a scented handkerchief to his nose to mask the salt water stench of the harbor as the ship docked. He swiped at the sweat beading on his forehead. His suit was a light, crisp linen but under the punishing African sun it felt like wool. He thought longingly of his own dinner table, his own fireplace, his own copy of the Times ironed and folded neatly next to a fresh cup of tea. He thought longingly of rain.  
  
The crew bustled around him, shouting from one end of the deck to the other as they tossed ropes out to the docks, as the boarding ramp dropped. Nick motioned impatiently to his valet, a queer nervous twist in his gut. He'd had two weeks to get used to the idea that his brother was alive, alive all this time while he had visited a small headstone once a year to lay flowers on an empty grave. It hadn't been enough time for him to grasp the idea firmly, to uproot a lifetime of what he'd thought was the truth. He still wasn't sure he believed it, even if the reports they'd been sent were credible enough to bring him halfway around the world. To see with his own eyes.   
  
Mr. Thompson, one of the family's solicitors, met them on the dock, taking charge with cars at the ready, directing the trunks to the hotel. Nick sank into the cushioned seat as they followed his luggage through streets crowded with people, with mud, with _goats_ until they reached an area of the city that he was relieved to see was almost reminiscent of civilization. Gloved doormen doffed their hats as they walked through the glass double doors. There was even a lift.   
  
"You must prepare yourself," Mr. Thompson was saying. "You must not expect-" He hesitated outside the door. "You must understand he has become-" He shook his head. "He is more a beast than a man."  
  
"Your letter was very clear," Nick said coldly. He motioned to the door, anticipation making him short-tempered. "If you please."  
  
It took Nick a moment when the door opened, time for his eyes to adjust to the dim, to pick out the crouched shape in the corner of the room. The man's long hair was wild around his bare shoulders. He shifted his weight warily from one bent leg to the other, wide eyes glittering. He was naked, fierce and bare.   
  
"The lights," Nick said sharply. Mr. Thompson hurried to raise the shades, sunlight bleaching the room bright. The man winced, his eyes slitting, his fingers splayed on the ground beside his feet as he shifted his weight again, a light, supple movement that felt more dangerous than such a small movement should have. He flashed his teeth in a snarl, and Nick felt the urge to back up a step. He pushed the unease away and marched up to the man, took his bearded chin in hand. The man gripped Nick's arms bruising hard, the chain on his raw wrist rattling with the movement. Nick held on, pulled his face up until he was peering through the matted mass of his hair, until he was meeting Nick's eyes. His grip went slack around Nick's wrists as Nick stared into his eyes, goldish brown in this light. He had long, dark eyelashes. Nick could recognize almost the shape of his own nose in the man's flared nostrils, the fullness of his own lips in the man's mouth, like a distorted mirror. Could see the tilt of his father's cheekbones, a wilder echo of his mother's strong eyebrows. His fingers tightened on the man's jaw until the man let out a low, rattling growl, slack grip turning hard again, pulling.   
  
"It's him," Nick said and let go. He ripped his arms from the crushing grip on his wrists and stumbled backward. He stared at this wreck of man, the dirt caked on his feet, the scars that slashed across his arms, that climbed up his ribs, the angry twist of his lip as he slapped his wide palm against his chest and stomped against the floor like an ape. This was Joseph Jonas. This was his brother.   
  
It was a disgrace.

The entire thing was a disgrace. This man had been born the heir to an earldom, and here he crouched in his own filth. Naked. Chained up like an animal. "I want him _dressed_ ," Nick said, deep icy anger in his voice. "I want him _clean_." He kicked at the chain where it snaked across the floor. "Do you understand who he is? This man would be the earl."  
  
" _Would be_ , my lord," Mr. Thompson said with a gentleness that raised Nick's hackles. "Whatever he would have been…" He trailed off. "This is what he is." He tilted his head in Joe's direction. "He can't be reasoned with. He's injured several of my men, broken Reed's arm. I'm telling you, my lord, we have done everything we could."  
  
"And I'm telling you," Nick said, putting all the power of his name into his voice. "That this is not how my brother will be treated."  
  
*  
  
The tranquilizers acted quickly. Joe fought the drag of the sedative, stumbling as he backed up defensively until the wall was at his back. His teeth were bared, and one strong hand looped around the chain on his wrist. A quick jerk of his wrist flicked the chain out, driving the hired men that circled him backward. The men waited until his legs went out from under him, his eyes rolling up as his body sagged, as he fell.  
  
*  
  
Nick fastened the shackle back on Joe's newly bandaged wrist himself after he'd sent the men away. Joe was sprawled on the bed, his mouth slack, his breathing slow. They'd dressed him in Nick's clothes, his bare feet sticking out of the trim cuffs of Nick's slacks, Nick's crisply ironed shirt only half-buttoned over the dark hair on his chest. Nick finished closing the buttons up almost to the hollow of his tan throat. He brushed damp hair back from Joe's freshly shaved face. They'd cut the worst of the tangles out, but he would need a proper haircut when they got back to England. Nick stroked his hair again, letting the long, wet strands fall through his fingers. He touched the smooth curve of Joe's jaw, looking for the chubby five year old face Nick knew more from photographs than his own vague memories.   
  
Joe nuzzled groggily into Nick's hand. His legs shifted restlessly as he started to wake up. His eyes half opened, unfocused, the sedative making him slow, dazed. He snuffled at Nick's hand, the hard breath from his nose tickling against Nick's skin. His tongue flicked out, hot against the curve of Nick's wrist. Nick froze, flushed, heat burning on his cheeks, crawling up his spine. Joe pulled at the shirt he was wearing, a high whine in his throat as he curled over onto his side, as he laid his head in Nick's lap. He rubbed his cheek against Nick's thigh, top of his head bumping into Nick's belly, his hand clutching weakly at Nick's hip before he went boneless, eyelids fluttering as he sank back under. Nick stared at him blankly, the wet of his hair soaking through Nick's slacks, a tight shiver of heat spiraling uncomfortably under Nick's skin.   
  
*  
  
Nick had hoped somehow that dressing Joe like a man would make him act like one, act more like one anyway. He admitted to himself that he'd been naïve when the sedative wore off. When Joe tore at the clothes he was wearing until they hung in rags, when he jerked at the chain around his wrist with frantic strength until he was bleeding again, when he jumped up onto the bed, hunched and wild, screaming in sharp wordless bursts of anger.  
  
It was three days later, back on the ship with a full day between them and the coast, before Nick risked letting him wake up again.  
  
*  
  
An urgent whisper from his valet during dinner brought Nick hurrying down the hall toward the noise spilling out of Joe's cabin, high-pitched yelping screams and angry thumps. It sounded like fifteen chimpanzees were loose in the room. Several of the ship's other passengers were peering out into the hall, curious. Nick pushed through the door to find Joe's nurse hovering anxiously beside the small bed. Joe was spread out the way Nick had left him, with his legs and arms locked in short chains that would limit his movement too much for him to hurt himself. Except he'd worked one of the cuffs off, and he was using his free hand to pull at the chain on his other wrist, to take the impact as he jerked the iron ring right out of the wall by slow millimeters.   
  
"Stop that!" Nick said, scolding. Joe cocked his head. He was still jerking absently at the chain, his muscles straining, but he seemed distracted now. He looked over, his eyes on Nick, watching warily. Nick inched closer to the bed, mindful of exactly how far Joe's free arm could reach, of exactly how strong his hands were.  
  
"Shall I put him back under?" the nurse said, hopeful, already moving with the needle in her hand. Joe was still looking at Nick, chest rising in shallow pants. The chains were pulled taut, but he'd stilled. Not struggling, just looking. Looking at Nick like he- Like he thought Nick could save him.  
  
"Wait."  
  
"My lord?"  
  
"Give me the key."  
  
She hesitated long enough that Nick glanced away from Joe, glanced over at her, and glared. She handed him the key reluctantly. Nick forced himself to move slowly, to give Joe time to get used to him coming closer. Joe lay still, nostrils flared with quick, hard breaths. Nick shuffled up until his knees pressed against the side of the bed. The back of Joe's hand brushed against Nick's leg, and Nick tensed, forced himself not to jerk back in surprise. Joe watched as Nick leaned over him, as Nick took hold of the cuff. His hand brushed against Nick's inseam, his fingers curling around the inside of Nick's thigh. He pulled abruptly, dragging Nick's bent knee up onto the bed. Nick hesitated, the key still in the cuff's lock, and tried to convince himself this wasn't a mistake. Joe tilted his head and met Nick's eyes. He didn't look angry, not right now.   
  
Nick turned the key and pulled the cuff loose. Joe's hand twisted quick as a blink, grabbed hold of Nick's wrist. Nick flinched, a shaky little gasp caught in his throat. Joe yanked hard, and Nick sprawled ungracefully across Joe's chest. Joe's hands were hard on his wrist, on the bend of his knee. Joe pushed his face into Nick's cheek, his breath hot as he nuzzled the ticklish curve of Nick's neck. Nick blushed. The deep, greedy inhales of Joe's breath sounded loud beside Nick's ear. He snuffled at the hollow of Nick's throat, nose pressing against Nick's bowtie. He licked at Nick's jaw, at the collar of Nick's shirt. He let go of Nick's wrist to pet roughly at Nick's hair, his other arm tightening around Nick's waist, holding him to Joe's chest when Nick tried to push away.  
  
"My lord?" the nurse said, voice shaky.  
  
"Um," Nick mumbled, voice muffled by how Joe was crushing his face into Joe's collarbone. He could feel the flush on his face turning even hotter. "It's all right," he said. "Just- If you could help me up?"  
  
*  
  
Nick woke in the middle of the night to a hand frantically shaking his shoulder and the shrill sound of screaming. He hurried next door, jamming his arms into his dressing gown. Pillow feathers filled the air. The mattress of the cabin's small bed was gutted, a hole ripped into its middle. Joe had a sharp piece of the shattered wooden chair from the corner clutched in his fist. He was crouched on the ruined mattress, eyes rolling, showing white. He bounced, and let out another of his shrieks, his flailing arm upending a half-full washing basin. Nick frowned at the clatter, at the mess. Joe's nostrils flared once, and he stopped abruptly, noticing Nick in the doorway. He dropped the wood shard and jumped off the bed into a low crouch, pulled up short by the chains still on his ankles when he tried to rush at Nick. He whined, face twisted up with frustration. Nick closed the distance between them, and Joe pressed his face into Nick's hip, his fingers digging hard into the small of Nick's back. His tongue flicked out wet against Nick's silk pajama bottoms. Nick could feel the heat of Joe's breath on his skin through the fabric.  
  
"He was fine when I left him," Nick said to the nurse, his fingers petting soothingly over Joe's hair. "He ate. He seemed calm."  
  
"He's been in a state all night," she said. "It wasn't so bad at first, but he's just gotten worse."  
  
"Well, he can't stay in this ruin," Nick said. "Have them put a cot in my cabin."  
  
"Oh, you can't, sir-" She caught herself, stammering. "I mean- I beg your pardon, my lord. But it's not safe."  
  
"It will be perfectly safe with the chains," Nick said, though he wasn't as sure as he tried to sound. Joe nudged at Nick's hip with his forehead, tugging at his dressing gown with his teeth.   
  
The nurse looked at the mess surrounding them skeptically. "You must drug him," she said. "For your own safety."  
  
But Joe curled up quiet as you please on his cot. Nick could see him watching from the other side of the room, his eyes glittering in the dark, staring. It was a bit unsettling, but he didn't make a peep. Nick woke to find he'd crawled out of the cot, crawled to the limit of his chain and fallen asleep on the floor beside Nick's bed, a handful of Nick's sheets clutched in his fist.   
  
*  
  
A few days later, Nick returned to his cabin, and Joe was quietly gone. There had been no commotion. The room looked just as Nick had left it. Except that there were empty shackles on the floor. Nick kept his panic tightly controlled, methodically searching the ship until he found Joe hidden in the cargo hold with the animals. He was sitting on his heels inside one of the horse stalls, surrounded by the chatter of long-tailed monkeys and a bunch of unruly, squawking birds. A smallish lion glared from behind iron bars as Nick approached. Nick glared back, wavering somewhere between relief and anger, trying not to let either show. The stallion's nose nudged into Joe's hand. Joe had ripped off his clothes again, the tattered remains of one sleeve clinging stubbornly to his wrist, the rest of him bare. Nick tried politely not to notice. Nick touched his back, just a quick brush of his fingertips to let Joe know he was there. Joe smiled at him over his shoulder, unsurprised, like he'd been waiting. He was smiling wide and delighted and so _sweet_. Nick felt it like a pain in his chest, like he'd had the wind knocked out of him.   
  
Joe pulled on Nick's hand, pulled him down until Nick was crouching beside him. He held onto Nick's hand, their fingers laced together, and guided their joined hands to the horse's velvety soft nose, to scrub roughly at the strong curve of its neck, pat its wide chest.   
  
"Yes, he's very nice," Nick said. "But you can't have him." He smiled a thin, closed-lipped smile and tightened his grip on Joe's hand. "When we get home, you can pick one from the stables." Joe cocked his head and ran the callused pads of his fingers over Nick's cheek, still smiling. He grabbed Nick by the nape of the neck and tilted their foreheads together with a soft thunk, his little sigh brushing lightly against Nick's lips.   
  
Nick closed his eyes. "We can't go on like this," he said quietly. Joe butted his nose into Nick's chin, his fingers kneading at Nick's neck just above the collar of his shirt. "Do you think I want to chain you up? I wouldn't have to if you'd just-" He forced himself to lower his voice, to unclench his hand from Joe's knee. He met Joe's eyes, stared into them like he could drill straight into his head, could _make_ him understand the words. "If you're smart enough to get loose, you're smart enough to _learn_." He didn’t know if Joe was though, not really. What if it was too late? What if he'd never be anything but wild? It seemed sometimes like he could see a flicker of recognition in Joe's eyes, some small response to the steady barrage of words Nick had been keeping up around him the last few days. Or maybe that was wishful thinking. He couldn't trust himself to see clearly. He wanted it too much. He frowned at Joe. "You're smart enough to _remember_." He touched his forehead," You're smart enough," and then touched his mouth, "to speak."  
  
"Speak," Joe said. Nick took in a quick breath, hope spiky and painful in his throat. Joe touched Nick's mouth, his fingers bumping into Nick's, like an imitation.   
  
Nick deflated. "But do you know what you're saying –" Joe's fingers traced over Nick's bottom lip as he spoke, pressed right at the middle of his mouth. He was smiling, playing. Nick pushed at his arm, tried to push him away, but Joe was strong. His fingers poked curiously into Nick's mouth, thick and a little sharp tasting and probably incredibly filthy. Nick sputtered. Joe laughed, the sound of it light and happy and devastating. He teased at Nick's tongue, pushed into the soft pocket of Nick's cheek, and laughed again as it bulged out. "Joe," Nick said, exasperated, jerking away from his reaching hands. "Do you understand or are you just repeating-"  
  
"Or are you just repeating-" Joe said, grinning. He'd imitated Nick perfectly, right down to the frazzled tone of his voice. A perfect mimic.  
  
"Great," Nick said sarcastically, a heavy sinking feeling in his gut. "That's great if I need a parlor game or a parrot."  
  
"Or a parrot," Joe said. He thumbed at the corner of Nick's mouth. Nick pushed at his hands, smacking them away, too disappointed to be patient. Joe seemed to think it was a game. He shoved back, grabbed at Nick's chin, pushed rough at the side of Nick's head. He was still smiling, playing, but his fingers hurt when they smacked against Nick's cheek. Nick grabbed for his wrist, starting to put his weight into it. "Stop," he snapped. Joe laughed, jerking Nick forward full body, his teeth closing on Nick's ear. Nick's palm landed on Joe's chest and then skidded away, startled by the heat of bare skin under his fingers. Joe used the hesitation to tip Nick onto his back in the straw.   
  
Joe was heavy on top of him, making it hard for him to catch his breath. Nick squirmed, his face hot as Joe's nose nudged into his armpit, as his hips nudged against Nick's thigh, a little stuttering shove. Nick gasped when he felt the hard press of Joe's dick against him. Joe's hips kept moving, rocking absently. His teeth tugged at Nick's throat. Nick flushed all over, too hot. He pushed at Joe uncertainly, hands not settling, trying to find somewhere safe to touch. He latched onto Joe's biceps, and heaved them both over so he was pinning Joe to the ground.   
  
Joe's knees came up tight, strong around Nick's hips, and he shoved, rolling them over into the wall. The horse above them whickered, its tail flicking uneasily. The stall was tiny, and its hooves were huge, and Nick really did not want to get stepped on. "Stop it," he said again, a concentrated shove sending Joe sprawling. He looked quickly away from Joe's dick, standing up dark, fat. His own dick felt heavy between his legs, obvious. Nick heaved himself up to his knees, reached to unlatch the stall. Joe sprung up into a crouch and grabbed at Nick's collar, yanked it so hard Nick heard stitches pop. He fell backward into Joe's chest. Joe's hands were hard against his waist. His nose was buried in the side of Nick's neck. The thick gust of his breath made Nick's skin prickle. His tongue was hot on Nick's skin; he sucked hard and sudden at Nick's jaw. Nick tensed, trembling. He felt sweaty, shaky like he was feverish, his body sagging into Joe weakly. Joe tore at Nick's shirt, the material tightening painfully against Nick's throat for a moment before the buttons popped and scattered. Joe rubbed his face against Nick's bared shoulder blades, his forehead sliding up the back of Nick's neck. His fingers were rough, tucked up under the loose tails of Nick's shirt, digging into Nick's hip, his belly. Nick panted. He tried to twist away, the two of them tangling, falling out of the stall onto the floor.   
  
Nick looked anxiously past the cages around them. Anyone could come up, see them lying there. See them, ah- Disheveled. He moved to stand, and Joe pushed him back down, the ground smacking hard into his shoulder blades. They pushed against each other, Nick's wrists locked in Joe's hands, Joe's weight pinning his hips to the ground. "Nicholas," Joe said, half-whining, petulant. Nick froze. He stared up at Joe, intent, hoping, looking for something like awareness. Joe cocked his head, and stared back, his mouth hanging open a little around panting breaths. He pushed Nick's wrists against the ground and said sharply, "Stop." It sounded like Nick's voice coming from Joe's mouth, like an imitation. But then he said, "Stop it, Nicholas." And his voice went so soft around Nick's name, so warm. That was just Joe, talking. Nick smiled. Joe touched Nick's mouth, dirty fingers against the corners where his lips turned up. He smiled back, wide, his eyes bright; and there was intelligence there. Nick was sure of it.   
  
Joe bent, settled himself down heavy over Nick, his hands kneading at Nick's ribs, his tongue, his teeth at Nick's throat. He wiggled like a puppy with a wagging tail, licking, licking. Nick laughed, petting through his long, soft hair, fingers catching on an occasional tangle. Joe's hips rocked restlessly, his dick jolting into the crease of Nick's thigh. "Soft," Joe muttered, stroking at the smooth skin of Nick's waist. Nick felt Joe's chest hitch against him, felt the little whimpering noise he made when his body stuttered.   
  
*  
  
Getting back to the cabin was a bit of an ordeal. Joe's come was drying damp and tacky on Nick's slacks, and Nick was uncomfortably hard, and then there was the nudity and the fact that Nick's shirt had lost most of its buttons. Nick could think of nothing more humiliating than being seen in this state. Luckily, Joe was good at sneaking, always seemed to know when someone was coming, to hear something too quiet for Nick's ears. They scrambled back to the room unseen, Joe tugging on Nick's hand as they darted down the final stretch of hallway.   
  
Inside, Joe's chains were still on the floor. Nick glanced at them. Joe's grip on his hand tightened to the point of pain. Nick looked over at him, torn. "I can't have you running off," he said. "Making scenes, and having tantrums."   
  
"Don't," Joe said, the anxious grip of his hand still tight. "Don't like."  
  
"I don't like it either," Nick said. "But what choice do I have?" He touched at his side where he could feel the tender start of bruises. Joe was too strong, still too wild.  
  
"Please," Joe said, voice shaky. He tilted his forehead into Nick's arm. Nick cupped his hand around the nape of Joe's neck soothingly. Joe was trembling, goosebumps broken out all over his skin. His tongue flicked out nervously to lick Nick's shoulder.  
  
"You have to stay in the room," Nick said, relenting. He tilted Joe's head up, and motioned to the room. "Stay." Joe nodded, eyes lit. He was almost prancing from one foot to the other. "And we'll start having proper lessons, English and silverware." Joe nodded again, eager, but Nick was pretty sure he hadn't actually understood any of that bit. This was such a terrible idea. "And stop tearing up all my clothes," Nick said irritably. He was going to regret this. Almost certainly.  
  
*  
  
Once Nick put away the chains, it was impossible to keep Joe in his cot. Each night Nick sent him to sleep there, and each night he woke up with Joe in his bed. Some nights Joe curled up at his feet, his body pressed warm against Nick's bent legs. But most nights he snuggled in at Nick's back, his arms tight around Nick's waist, his chin crooked over Nick's shoulder.   
  
The first time Nick woke to Joe rutting up against him, he went still, stiff with shock. Joe grunted, his dick shoving slippery against Nick's bare skin where he'd pushed Nick's pajama shirt up above his waist, pushed his pajama bottoms low on his hips. His hand was hot on Nick's belly. Nick's face twisted up as a deep, tight stab of heat started to wind in his gut. He opened his mouth, closed it helplessly around a protest he was too embarrassed to speak. He bit his lip, breath going thready as the jerk of Joe's hips sped up behind him, jostling into him, his hand rough on Nick's hip.   
  
When Joe came it spattered in thick obscene spurts against Nick's skin. Joe sagged, relaxed, his dick pressed tight to the curve of Nick's ass, a pleased hum vibrating against Nick's tensed shoulders. He nosed at Nick's neck, nudging curiously between Nick's shoulder blades. His hand slid up through the mess on Nick's back, smearing it. He licked at Nick's back, lapping at the sticky mess with his tongue, wet swipe up Nick's spine, soft lips pressing against Nick's ribs. Nick trembled, his dick a hard ache between his legs. His hand curved protectively around the ache, not letting himself touch it, forcing himself to wait until Joe was breathing slow and heavy behind him, asleep. He slipped out from under Joe's arm, and locked himself in the washroom, stroking himself off with rough, desperate pulls that hurt his skin. He came fast, hard, whole body clenching around it.  
  
*  
  
Nick tried to explain to Joe in the morning that one didn't _pleasure oneself_ unless one was alone. Or perhaps in the company of a young lady, if you were married. Or maybe if you weren't married but you asked the young lady very nicely first and took care to ensure no one got pregnant… Joe cocked his head, and blinked blankly, uncomprehending as Nick stumbled awkwardly through making a mess of the whole thing with an insufficient combination of rough sign language and Joe's growing, but still limited, vocabulary of words. Nick gave up halfway through, his face bright red with embarrassment. Joe pressed the palm of his hand to Nick's hot cheek, his eyebrows wrinkling up, amused.   
  
"Your face is funny, Nicholas." He ran a hand up into Nick's curls and tugged, pulling until Nick's nose bumped into Joe's. He tipped his chin up and gave Nick a hot little kiss.   
  
Nick jerked back, Joe's fingers yanking painfully at his hair with the sudden motion. "No," he said. "Bad." He reached up to untangle Joe's fingers. "Bad!" he said again, trying to use his sternest voice, the voice that normally made people jump to attention, obey. Joe wrinkled up his nose, and cocked his head, studying Nick quizzically.   
  
"Not bad," he said, shrugging a little.  
  
"Bad," Nick said, scooting backward up the bed until he hit the headboard.  
  
"Why?" Joe said curiously, edging forward on all fours.  
  
Nick frowned, casting aimlessly for something simple enough that Joe would understand. "That was-" He touched his lips, and shook his finger no. "It's bad for brothers. You and I are brothers."  
  
"What is brothers?" Joe said, brow furrowing.   
  
"Ah," Nick stuttered, his mind blank. "We have the same mother?" He made a baby rocking motion. Joe cocked his head. "The same blood. Like your, what did you have? A pack? Your family?"  
  
Joe looked at him doubtfully. "Why is bad?"   
  
Nick rubbed at his forehead. He felt like he was playing the world's worst game of charades. "It just is," he said finally, using his stern voice again, putting as much force into it as he could. "You're my brother."   
  
"You're my brother," Joe said, mimicking Nick, his voice stern like maybe if he said it too he would understand it. He laughed and bounced over to Nick on the bed, launched himself into a tackle. He wrapped Nick up in clinging arms, snuggling close. "You're mine," he said into Nick's ear, completely missing the entire point. "My Nicholas brother." He nuzzled at the curve of Nick's neck, pressed his lips to the corner of Nick's mouth and said confidently. "Not bad."  
  
*  
  
Nick wired ahead so the cars would be waiting when they docked in England. The train would have been faster, but traveling by car felt more private, safer. It was one thing for Joe to have an outburst on another continent, or some ship in the middle of the Atlantic. But England was a small country, and their name meant something here. Nick didn't want to take any chances until he was sure Joe wasn't going to make a spectacle of himself. Even just making their way to the cars, or driving through the crowded bustle of the city could end in disaster. He couldn't predict how Joe might react to the noise. He couldn't risk Joe somehow slipping away into the crowd.   
  
He gave Joe the sedative himself. Joe made a pleased grunt when Nick steadied his arm, his fingers tight on Joe's bare skin. He bumped his forehead into Nick's shoulder, touching at Nick's belt, hooking his fingers underneath it. Nick jabbed in the needle. Joe's head jerked up and he blinked, confused. He rubbed at his arm. Nick muttered a gruff apology as Joe started to sag, a lost look on his face. His hands clutched at Nick's arms, grabbing handfuls of his waistcoat. His knees buckled. He made a broken off sound, and his eyes rolled up, his hands going slack. Nick caught him as he fell, eased him carefully down onto the bed.   
  
*  
  
Nick sat in the backseat with Joe curled up beside him, his head pillowed in Nick's lap. Nick combed his fingers through Joe's hair and watched the countryside roll past. He thought he was going to miss Joe's hair a little when it was cut.   
  
Joe started to stir a few hours outside London, the drug easing its hold. He twitched weakly, a low groan rumbling in his throat. His whole body suddenly went tense, and he thrashed clumsily as he tried to sit up.   
  
Nick hushed him, kept him down, kept a tight grip on him when he tried to flail. The driver's eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror. "It's all right," Nick said. "He's just waking up."  
  
Joe was still too slow, too groggy to fight, and he sprawled back into Nick's lap, breath coming hard through his nose. His eyes were glassy, and he made a distressed whimper as he tried to strain back up against Nick's grip. Nick held him down, murmuring, "It's just me. It's okay. You're okay." Joe turned his face, his hands digging into Nick's legs, his lips half pulled back in a snarl. He turned toward Nick's voice, and his nostrils flared. He nuzzled his nose into Nick's belly, grinding his face into Nick's waistcoat. Sharp, deep breaths jerked through him, his body trembling a little. And then slowly he went boneless, his weight heavy on Nick's thighs, his fingers inching up to knead at Nick's hips. Nick eased his grip, but he kept his hands on Joe, stroked down the long line of his spine, slid his fingers through Joe's soft hair. Joe tugged at Nick's shirt with his teeth, tiny little tugs, inching the tucked in tails up from under Nick's waistband. He made soft sounds in the back of his throat, his hands clutching at Nick's sides, his chin rubbing against Nick's dick. Nick felt himself start to go hard. His hand tightened in Joe's hair with the slow stiffness of his dick until Joe whimpered sharply. Nick quickly let go.   
  
"Sir?" the driver said.   
  
"He's fine," Nick choked out as Joe nuzzled at him, his nose buried in Nick's crotch. "He was-" His body burst with sweat, heat flooding through him, his blood rushing so loudly in his ears it seemed like the driver would have to hear his heartbeat. "He was just disoriented," Nick forced out, surprised that he sounded almost normal, just a little hitch in his voice. "He's getting his bearings now."  
  
Joe's breath was hot on Nick's dick through his trousers. He mouthed wetly at the fabric, leaving marks on the tweed. Nick pushed at his shoulder, his hand tight in Joe's hair, pulling. Joe let out a couple of angry grunts, getting louder as he strained against Nick's grip. Nick watched the driver's eyes flick up to the rearview mirror again, felt the car start to slow. He turned Joe loose, relieved when he immediately quieted to a soft, pleased hum. "He's quite harmless, I assure you." Nick just barely managed not to stutter as Joe snuffled against the hard bulge of his cock. "Drive on." He put every bit of ice he could muster into his voice even though his face burned with embarrassment. He met the man's eyes in the mirror and glared as haughtily as if Joe weren't pressing his hot fingers up under Nick's untucked shirt, rubbing his face in little kittenish pushes against Nick's thighs, his groin.  
  
"Sir," the driver said, lowering his eyes to the road and resuming their speed.  
  
Nick's legs tensed helplessly when Joe opened his mouth around the bulge of Nick's cock, hot even through Nick's slacks. Nick could feel Joe's tongue pressing, licking, wetting his clothes. Joe suckled, the drag of it muffled through the fabric. Nick's head tipped back, his eyelids fluttering. His fist was tight in Joe's hair at the nape of Joe's neck, his other hand holding white-knuckled to the open window as he tried not to make a sound. Tried not to draw the driver's attention. Joe made small, sleepy noises, the kind he made at night when he was curled up in Nick's bed, snuggling against Nick's back. His body went heavier and heavier in Nick's lap as he suckled. Nick watched his eyelids droop, his fingers tucked in underneath Nick's waistband, hot against Nick's skin. His fists clutched loosely at the top of Nick's buttoned slacks, tugging just a little. Nick's whole body felt too tight, too hot, his back tensing, legs starting to tremble with the effort of staying still, quiet. His head tipped forward, feeling too heavy on his neck. His lungs ached around caught breath. He thrust up shallowly, his hips, his cock bumping up into Joe's face, rough. Joe made a sleepy protesting sound when Nick's fist tightened, jerked at his hair as he started to come silently in his trousers.  
  
He shuddered against the seat, Joe's mouth still moving on him, rubbing the wet mess in his pants over too raw nerves. Nick tried to steady his breathing, control himself, but he shuddered again. Overwhelmed. Joe mumbled something into Nick's thigh, his chest hitching as he took deep sniffing breaths, smelling him. Nick turned his face blindly to the open window, felt the wind rush in, cool against his hot cheeks. Even with the brisk breeze he could still smell it, the thick scent of his come filling up the car. Mortifying. He shifted self-consciously and glanced at the rearview mirror, relieved when there was no one looking back. His fingers ran absently through Joe's hair until the thin trembling in his hands faded.   
  
*  
  
Nick's trousers were disgusting. They were still damp from Joe's tongue, uncomfortably wet inside. His shirt clung to his sweaty back. He felt incredibly conspicuous. But when they reached the house he buttoned his coat over the mess, and kept his spine straight, kept his orders clipped as the men unloaded the cars.   
  
Joe climbed out of the car cautiously, testing the air, warily falling into a crouch. Nick made a disapproving motion with his hand, tutting, and Joe quickly rose to stand upright, slinking in close to Nick's side.   
  
"I'll have a bath," Nick said immediately as they entered the house.   
  
"Of course, sir." His valet reached for his coat, but Nick brushed past the outstretched hand, his ears burning. "Sir!" Edwards called. Nick took the stairs two at a time. Joe scrambled to keep up beside him, his head craning to take it all in.  
  
Nick was already kicking off his shoes as he entered his bedroom, yanking at the button on his trousers. He wrestled off his underwear, desperate to get the slimy feel of them off his skin, and headed straight for the bathroom. Joe followed him in, bumping into Nick's back when Nick stopped abruptly.   
  
"No," Nick said, pointing. "You wait outside." Joe pressed himself up close to Nick, tongue flicking out nervously against his lip. He touched the flat of it wetly to the collar of Nick's shirt. He'd stripped off his trousers too, his underwear still hanging low on his hips. Nick realized abruptly that his dick was hanging out, and cupped a hand over it, blushing. "And put your clothes back on," he said.   
  
Joe whined, "Nicholas." He held onto Nick's sleeve. His eyes were a little too wide, his breath coming a little too fast. He looked scared. This was a new place, and he was scared. Nick felt a punch of guilt. He circled his free hand over Joe's, squeezing. Joe smiled, lacing their fingers tightly together. He wrapped an arm around Nick's waist, tucking his hand up under Nick's shirt, his fingers stroking at Nick's belly. He nuzzled at the back of Nick's neck. Nick clenched his teeth when his dick started to swell in the cup of his hand. Joe nudged up behind him, his cock half-hard against Nick's ass. He rocked his hips, pressing, and Nick jerked forward.   
  
"No!" he said. "Go outside!" He pushed at Joe, trying to keep himself covered and force Joe out with one hand. Joe grasped at him until he was forced to let go of his dick so he could use both hands to shove at him, move him toward the door. When he finally managed to close the door between them, Joe thumped on it with his fists, rattling the knob, making pitiful sounds. Nick turned the water on to drown them out, stood under the cold spray until his dick went down. His teeth were chattering when he finally switched over to hot water, scrubbing hard at his skin.  
  
The door rattling had died off by the time he cautiously poked his head out into the room. He felt better now that he was clean, now that he was wrapped in his dressing gown with his slippers on. "Joe," he said, coming back into his bedroom. Joe was sprawled on the bed, naked, his tan a faded gold marked with pale scars, his hair dark, dark against his skin. His hand lazily circled his cock. He had Nick's underwear pressed to his face, and his tongue flicked out to touch the damp fabric. Nick flushed so hard he went a little dizzy with it.  
  
"Joe." He meant to snap in a tone that said, "Stop that right now!" But it came out cracked in the middle. Joe looked at him, eyes heavy-lidded, his hand still pumping around his fat dick. He smiled. He didn't so much as pause at being caught out. His back arched, body stretching. His hand twisted around his dick, the slide of it making slick wet sounds in the silence. Nick turned on his heel and went back inside the bathroom, the shut door not enough to block out the throb of his own hard cock. He chaffed at the ache with the heel of his hand, pretending it was enough.   
  
*  
  
Joe spent the rest of the day prowling through the house, curiously touching his tongue to the lamp in the sitting room and poking at the paintings in the hall. His shoulders hunched uneasily, and he stuck close to Nick at first, venturing off a little ways and then sidling back to press himself tight to Nick's side, to touch his forehead to Nick's shoulder for reassurance. The uneasiness seemed to fade as he got used to the place, his head still cocked for the sound of Nick's voice as Nick pointed out this or that, the telephone and the shower, the stove that was not for touching.  
  
"Do you like it here?" Nick asked when Joe had settled next to him on the couch, tired of flipping the lights on and off, peeking under rugs and into closets. Joe crouched next to him instead of sitting, busily running his fingers through Nick's hair, tugging and twisting at the curls, touching at Nick's ears.   
  
He hesitated, smoothed his thumbs across Nick's eyebrows. He held Nick's face still in his cupped hands, his dark eyes intent. "I like Nicholas," he said. He pressed a quick, hard kiss to Nick's lips; and then let him go, ducking his head and inching back quickly like he knew he'd done what he wasn’t supposed to. What Nick had told him not to. He looked over at the window, the sky overcast, the lawn still late summer green. "Outside?" he said hopefully. He swung up easily over the back of the sofa, landing on bent legs. He moved strange and graceful, loped to the window in a moving crouch, his knuckles pressed to the ground. He stood up, squashed his nose against the cold glass, leaving fingerprints. "Can we go?"   
  
"Not yet," Nick said. It felt cruel to tell him no, but if Joe wanted to he could so easily slip into the dense trees on the eastern edge of the property. It was just that they'd never catch him before he was out of reach. Better not to risk it until Nick had made more progress, until the wildness was driven farther underneath his skin.   
  
*  
  
Nick had arranged for Joe to be installed in the bedroom across the hall. Close enough that Nick would be at hand if anything happened, far enough to begin making boundaries clear. Nick had allowed too much on the ship. Here things would be different. Joe whined pitifully when Nick explained that he would have to sleep in his own bed, but Nick didn't have to use the ampoule of sedative in his pocket. Joe curled up easily enough, ducking petulantly under the covers. The lump he made under the blankets wiggled around a moment and then just his arm emerged to drop his pajamas spitefully on the floor. Nick sighed and left them neatly folded on top of the dresser in the corner.   
  
Nick woke up in the gray light of early dawn, disoriented, breath coming too fast. Joe's arm was around his waist. Joe's bare chest was pressed sweaty to Nick's back. His hot hand had slipped down under the elastic of Nick's pajama bottoms, inside Nick's underwear. He had his hand cupped around Nick's thickening prick, holding the weight of his balls, rubbing with the heel of his hand, the rough pads of his fingers. Nick took in a shaky gasp of breath, his hands clenching. Joe's tongue was wet at the nape of his neck. His cock nudged between Nick's silk clad thighs, catching on the fabric, his hips jostling Nick from behind. Nick pushed back into the heat of him, his ass grinding against the shove of Joe's hips, Joe's dick bumping up against the heavy ache in Nick's balls. Joe made little grunting sounds, his breath hot on Nick's skin. His hand was wet with Nick's slick, tugging on Nick's cock. Nick panted, gasping helplessly, his hips jolting forward into the heat of Joe's hand, pressing back into the shove of his cock. Joe suckled at his shoulder, hard little sucks. Nick went off embarrassingly fast, teeth clenching down on the low groan that tightened his throat as he came with Joe's hand on his dick.   
  
He sagged, trembling, his head falling back onto Joe's shoulder. Joe thrust against him in hard jolts. He grumbled in the back of his throat, and moved suddenly, his strong hands flipping Nick over onto his back, his body settling heavy on top of Nick. His bare skin was hot, felt like there was so much of him, sliding, pressing against Nick everywhere. His fingers were tight on the curve of Nick's jaw; dug hard into his ribs. Nick grabbed at him, holding on to Joe as he ground his hips down, ground against Nick's hip, Nick's thigh, Nick's spent dick. Nick shuddered at the too soon friction. Joe's lips pressed against Nick's chin, his tongue licked the corner of Nick's mouth. Nick groaned, his hips shifting anxiously, his hand grasping at Joe's shoulder, at Joe's hair. Joe sucked at Nick's bottom lip, licked at his mouth, and Nick opened unthinking for the wet slide of him inside. Joe's hands skidded over his skin, greedy, touching at his hip, reaching down inside the back of Nick's pajamas to squeeze hard at the swell of his ass. Nick arched up into Joe's chest, felt the little jerking pulse of Joe coming. It was thick and hot against Nick's bared belly.   
  
Nick flinched.   
  
Joe was heavy over him, pinning him to the bed, his hips moving lazy now, just shifting a little while he kissed at Nick's mouth, touched at Nick's face, his fingers wet against Nick's cheek. Wet with come. Oh God, Nick could feel it. Feel it slimy on his skin. His nostrils flared with too fast breaths. He could smell it. God, he'd let- He'd more than _let_ \- He'd wanted- Joe was so heavy. Nick felt the crush of claustrophobia as he pushed at him.  
  
Joe leaned close, pressed his lips to Nick's again. Nick made a muffled sound of protest, bucking. He had to get up. He was- He was sticky. He was _filthy_. This was all- Joe laughed, nuzzled at Nick's cheek, pressed his nose flat to Nick's jaw. The come between them made a thick squelching sound when he shifted, his hot skin smearing it over Nick's belly. Nick bucked again, pushing, panicked. He reached blindly for the end table, for the syringe he kept there just in case. Joe grabbed him, his mouth open against Nick's collarbone, his strong arms holding Nick to his chest. Nick flicked off the plastic cap, and jabbed the needle into Joe's arm. Joe's eyes flew wide, his head arching back on his long neck. He met Nick's eyes accusingly, his hands squeezing tight, fingers digging painfully into Nick's skin for a moment before his eyelids started to droop. Before he collapsed loose-limbed, heavy on top of Nick.   
  
Nick rolled him over onto his back, squirmed away from his sprawled arms. Nick scrubbed at the come on his belly with the heel of his hand, his breath coming so hard it hurt his lungs. He looked at his hand, the wet shine on his palm. He ran for the bathroom, the clean curve of his wrist rubbing at his cheek where Joe had touched him. He submerged himself in the bathtub, the water closing over his face, and looked up through the broken light, surfacing to take deep controlled breaths that he held until his heart stopped racing, until he was calm.   
  
When he climbed out of the bath Joe was still asleep. His hair was mussed, his naked body spread out pliant in the sheets, dick still wet, his body marked with drying come. Nick's throat closed around a parched swallow, and he resisted the urge to just toss a blanket over the whole mess, go downstairs and eat his breakfast. Make his valet clean it up. He blushed helplessly, a little twitch of horror twisting in him when he thought of his valet seeing this, seeing Joe, _touching_ Joe, cleaning sex from his skin. Knowing that this had happened in Nick's bed. Knowing it every time he polished Nick's shoes or helped Nick into a freshly pressed shirt. He was sure Edwards would never say a word, not to anyone, but he would _know_.  
  
Nick gritted his teeth and brought a basin of warm water from the bathroom. He scrubbed over the hair on Joe's lean chest with a washrag. He ran the cloth over each of Joe's fingers one by one. Over the hard planes of his stomach, the sharp jut of his hipbones. He carefully didn't touch Joe's skin with his bare fingers as he rubbed the rag gently over the pale scars that climbed his ribs, over the bend of Joe's elbows and the trim, wiry muscles of his arms. He scrubbed at Joe's cheeks, at his lips so plump from kissing. Kissing Nick. He scrubbed until they were red and his chin was red, raw. Wet. He froze when his fingers slipped bare and sudden against rough stubble, his heart thudding too loud in his ears. He took a shaky, determined breath and carefully covered his whole hand with the rag again. His lips thinned, and he scrubbed tentatively over the thick shock of dark hair around the base of Joe's dick. He ran his fist down the soft length of his prick, felt the way it firmed in his grip a little, felt it even through the cloth in his hand. A deep trembling worked its way through him, sharp edged and hot. He bit his lip until he tasted blood, kept cleaning until there was no trace of him left on Joe's skin.   
  
That night he locked the door to his bedroom.   
  
*   
  
Nick woke up early, still tired. He'd slept horribly, unable to settle even after the rattling at his door had trailed off into silence. He stared at himself in the mirror, the dark circles under his eyes. He touched the bruise on his neck, pressed down on the tender mark Joe had left there until the pain made him wince. He tightened the belt on his dressing gown and silently pushed open the door to Joe's room. His eyes narrowed when he saw the covers were on the ground, the pillows scattered across the floor, the chair in the corner upended. A minor tantrum. No Joe. A quick curl of fear twisted in Nick's gut, and he hurried down the stairs. The deep silence of the still sleeping house made him uneasy. He was not a late riser, but it was rare that he was up before Edwards, before the kitchen staff.   
  
He found Joe in the east sitting room, asleep on the floor in front of the dying fire. Nick's two golden retrievers were curled up with him, the three of them lying in a tangled heap. Sadie cracked open an eye, her tail thumping against the rug, her head resting on Joe's naked hip. Joe had his hand buried in Fly's fur, his head pillowed on her belly. Nick looked up as the door was pushed open, one of the maids entering. He watched her notice Joe, watched her blush and avert her eyes. Nick felt his own cheeks heat. He knelt to shake Joe awake. Joe looked up at him, and blinked, his dark eyes soft with sleep.   
  
"What are you doing?" Nick asked him sharply.   
  
Joe stretched lazily, sitting up, more of his naked skin bared. The dogs shifted around him, nosing at Nick's legs, tails starting to thump. The maid drew back the curtains on the other side of the room and the just rising sun lit up the smooth skin of Joe's back, shone in his tangled hair. Nick could see the maid sneaking looks out of the corner of her eye. Joe rubbed at his chest with the back of his hand, yawning. He scratched casually at his belly, at his balls. Nick shifted to block the maid's view.   
  
"Joe," he snapped. He tugged Joe's arm impatiently, pulling him to his feet. He wrapped him up in Nick's robe. Nick glanced uneasily at the door, wondering how much of the household had woken. Joe looked at him, smiling when Nick tugged the belt of the robe tight around his middle. He pressed his lips to the curve of Nick's neck, taking little snuffling breaths.   
  
Nick jerked back, his ears burning, carefully not looking at the maid in the corner of the room. He grabbed Joe's hand and started to hustle them both back up the stairs. "Why aren't you in your bed?" he said.  
  
Joe's eyes slitted as he looked for the right word. He brought their joined hands to his mouth, bit down on the side of Nick's wrist, nipping. "Don't like," he said finally, and licked the indents he'd left on Nick's wrist. "Alone is bad." He peeked up through his eyelashes. Nick's jaw clenched down on the guilt that tried to well up. Was it fair to punish him for doing things he didn't know were wrong? But no- Joe had to learn. He had to learn what was _not allowed_. Still, how could Nick force him to stay in his bed unless he drugged him every night or locked him in his room? He thought of Joe chained up on the boat, of the anger, the animal violence captivity had brought out in him. No, to pull the chain that tight again would destroy all the progress he'd made. Unacceptable. He tugged on their joined hands, hurrying Joe into his room, relieved to have the door shut behind them.   
  
Joe bounded into Nick's bed, rolling in the sheets, grasping them in tight fists. He slid down onto his belly, his face buried in Nick's pillow. Nick could hear him sniffing it, wriggling happily. Nick snapped his fingers to get Joe's attention. "Joe," he said. Joe licked at the pillow, nudging into it with his forehead. Nick knelt down gingerly at the edge of the bed, reached over to touch Joe on the shoulder. Joe turned to him, craning his neck so he could rub his face against Nick's arm. "Come here," Nick said. Joe pulled himself up into a crouch, shuffled over on bent legs until he was facing Nick, crouching just a little too close. He cocked his head, his hand covering Nick's bare foot, fingers stroking against his ankle. The dressing gown had come loose, falling down on one of his arms. Nick jerked the sleeve back into place, his hand resting carefully on Joe's shoulder, curled against the bare skin of his neck.   
  
"You want to sleep here," Nick said. He patted the bed to make it clearer.  
  
Joe nodded eagerly. He leaned in, inching closer until the top of his head thudded into Nick's chest.  
  
Nick touched his head lightly. "If I let you, you have to be good."   
  
"Yes," Joe said quickly. Too quickly.   
  
"You have to do what I tell you." Nick pulled at Joe's hair, trying to make sure it was sinking in, pulled his head up until he was meeting Nick's eyes. "Even if you don't understand why. There are different rules here, and you have to follow them. Even if you don't like it."  
  
"What rules?" Joe said, his neck bent back under the tug of Nick's hand, his jaw shadowed with stubble. Nick watched the way it rippled down his throat when he swallowed. He let go of Joe's hair, hesitated.  
  
"You can only touch this when you're alone." He grabbed his dick briefly through his pajamas, red faced, forcing the crudity to get the point across.  
  
Joe cocked his head, and reached out, touching Nick through his pajamas. "Now?" he said, his fingers rough against Nick's prick, grabbing at Nick's balls. Nick's breath caught, his body locking up around the sudden feverish snarl of heat that burst in him. He shoved at Joe's hand, pushed him away.   
  
"No!" Nick panted. He cupped his hand protectively around his prick, stammering. "I mean, you can never touch _this_. You can only touch _yours_." He motioned with his chin toward Joe's crotch. His mouth dropped open when Joe slipped a hand inside the gaping sides of the dressing gown, slipped a hand around his cock. Nick squeezed his own prick reflexively, squeezed down on the swelling ache. He felt shaky, felt like it was hard to think. "When you're _alone_ ," Nick choked out. "When I'm not there. When no one is with you."  
  
"Why?" Joe's hand moved lazily on his cock, his eyes heavy-lidded.  
  
"Because those are the rules," Nick said through gritted teeth.  
  
"Feels good," Joe said like that should settle it. His shoulder was a little hunched, his hand still working himself over with slow, slick tugs.   
  
"Yes," Nick said, his voice thin. "But it's not allowed."  
  
"You like it." Joe cocked his head. It wasn't a question. He grabbed at Nick again, moving fast and sudden. He knocked Nick's blocking hand aside, got a hand on Nick's cock. A shudder rolled up the length of Nick's spine, his body going shivery hot. He pushed at Joe, pushed him away, but not before Joe had felt that Nick was hard.   
  
"It feels good," Joe said, bemused. "Is not bad." He grabbed hold of Nick's hand, and yanked Nick forward, pressed Nick's hand to his bare cock.   
  
Nick jerked his hand back from the heat of it. He felt so hot all over. He was so hard. "Stop," he said, but it sounded weak, like begging, like it wanted to be a whimper. His hand curled to a fist, and he cleared his throat. "Stop," he said louder, trying to make it sound like a command. Trying to sound like he was in control.  
  
Joe looked at him, his forehead wrinkled up, confused, concerned. He touched himself casually, slid his hand down the full length of his dick, twisted and slid back up again.   
  
"We don't-" Nick said. "We don't do this. Only when you're alone." He forced his voice level, forced himself to sit straight, to meet Joe's eyes instead of staring at the thick red head of his dick. Forced himself to not touch his dick where it jutted ridiculously, tenting his pajamas. "You said you would be good," he reminded Joe. "These are the rules."  
  
Joe chewed on his lower lip. He eased his hand off himself, his cock straining, dark. He whined. "Need," he said. He looked down at it, looked back up at Nick, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Need to."   
  
Nick felt the low throb of a headache starting at his temples, thrumming in time with the throb of his cock. "You can," he said uncomfortably, his face burning, his whole body burning. "You can finish. Just- Go in the bathroom. It's all right when you're alone." Joe smiled brilliantly, his eyes crinkling up in the corners. He lunged forward to rub his nose into the crease of Nick's neck. Nick closed his eyes, his body rigid as he tried not to feel the press of Joe's cock, forced himself not to rut his hips up into Joe's heat. Joe let him go, loping into the bathroom. "Only when you're alone, remember," Nick called, lying on his back, covering his eyes. Joe had left the door open. Nick could hear the slick sound of it as he jerked himself, hear it like he was still in the room. Nick groaned and rolled over onto his stomach, his hips working against the mattress, rubbing frantic at the heavy ache between his legs. Coming felt like a relief, left him drained, sprawled weakly against the mattress.   
  
That night Nick slept like the dead with Joe tucked in tightly, warm against his back.

*

Nick began his campaign to reclaim Joe from the jungle in earnest. He hired specialists to teach Joe all the proper words, and how to hold a fork, and how to knot a necktie. Joe was smart, a natural mimic, he picked things up more quickly than any of the tutors expected. He was a willing enough student, eager to earn Nick's praise when he tied his shoes or sat properly at the dining room table instead of crouching on his seat. He obviously didn't understand why they had to wear clothes all day or why they couldn't touch themselves between their legs whenever they felt like it, but when Nick gave him rules he tried to follow them. Nick was able to instill, if not shame, at least a willingness to humor him, a tourist's bemused willingness to attempt to understand how things were done here. The boundaries Nick had set held. But there was still a dark, sharp-edged wildness underneath the thin veneer of civilization. Some days Nick would find Joe climbing up the bookshelves in the library, easily pulling himself from shelf to shelf. Or carefully taking apart the antique clock in the sitting room just to find out what was inside. Or taking his frustration out on the dining room in a flurry of ruined cushions and smashed crockery when Nick told him again that going outside would have to wait.   
  
He tucked an odd assortment of things under his pillow on the other side of Nick's bed. Bits of fruit and bread, one of Nick's silk ties, a knife. Nick tried to explain about mold, and how there was plenty of food in the kitchen, and how Nick was having ties of his own made for him, but it didn't seem to take. Nick gave Joe a box to keep on the bedside table to at least alleviate the problem of crumbs in the sheets. He had the servants lock up the cutlery.   
  
Nick filled Joe's wardrobe with clothes tailored for him, elegant clothes that unlike the borrowed clothes he'd been wearing hung perfectly off his shoulders. Elegant clothes that made it somehow odder, somehow worse, when he would drop absently into a crouch, when his lips would peel back from his teeth in a snarl. When he reached for Nick with rough hands, touched his hot tongue to the curve of Nick's jaw. The clothes didn't hide the heat of him when his body was snug against Nick's back.   
  
Nick brought his personal barber out to the house rather than risk taking Joe into the city. He slipped just a little of the sedative into Joe's food, just enough to make him slow down, enough to make him sit still. He dozed in the chair while his hair fell in chunks to the floor around him, his fingers tucked into Nick's belt loop, his arm sagging. When it was done, Nick helped him up, Joe clinging disoriented to his chest, tucked in under his arm. Nick settled him in the bed, and Joe grabbed at him, hands grasping, reaching, holding tight until his eyes drifted shut, his breathing slowing.   
  
Nick brushed his hands through the shorter strands of Joe's hair, the way it swept dark over his forehead. He touched the curve of Joe's cheekbones, the way they stood out delicate and bare without the unruly waves of his hair to hide them. His cheeks were freshly shaved, smooth. Nick touched Joe's mouth with his thumb, brushed his finger across the full swell of Joe's slightly open lips. He could feel the light push of Joe's breath. Joe didn't stir, his eyes still closed. Nick leaned in close, his heart beating rabbit quick. Leaned until his nose nudged against Joe's face. He pressed his lips to Joe's slack mouth. Joe was hot inside. Nick nudged his lips farther open, his tongue slipping deeper.   
  
Was that the floorboards in the hallway creaking? Did Joe's mouth move? Nick jerked back, his heart pounding so hard it felt like every thud shook him, set his whole body trembling. His eyes flicked fearfully to the door, to Joe's face. He listened for a creaking but heard nothing. Joe was still asleep, breathing steady and slow, his limbs sprawled heavily, eyes closed. Nick cupped his hand around Joe's throat, slid his fingers along Joe's jaw, feeling the heat of Joe's skin against his palm. He was so quiet, so still. It was so easy to just- Nick unbuttoned Joe's shirt, his fingers clumsy, rushing. He slid his curled fingers down the center of Joe's chest, spread his hand wide to palm the hard cage of Joe's ribs, the slow rise of his chest, his belly. He ran his fingertips over the dark nubs of Joe's nipples, watched them tighten. Traced the pale scars on Joe's side, gathered up the heat of Joe's skin with his hands.   
  
His breathing sounded too loud in his own ears as he pulled Joe's zipper down. He peeked up at Joe's face. Still asleep. He yanked Joe's underwear down underneath his cock. Joe wasn't really hard, just a little firmed up. Nick circled his hand around Joe's prick. His skin felt hotter here, softer. Nick slid his hand down the length of it, feeling it thicken. He ducked his head, breathing hard, his body flushing as he carefully took the head in his mouth, held the weight of it on his tongue.  
  
There was a knock at the door.   
  
Nick sat up abruptly, breath caught, fear tight in his throat. He stuffed Joe's cock back inside his slacks, and struggled with putting his shirt buttons back in order. "Yes," he snapped, panic making him testy. "What is it?" He gritted his teeth as the blasted buttons slipped around in his fingers.   
  
"Tea, sir."  
  
Nick tugged Joe farther up the bed. Joe stirred groggily, and Nick put a calming hand on his forehead. "Go back to sleep," he whispered. Joe nudged up into Nick's hand, exhaling a heavy sigh. He rolled over onto his side and fell still again. Nick stood up, took a shaky breath. He ran his hand over his lips, over his chin.   
  
"My lord?"  
  
Nick pressed a hand to his crotch, pressed down. He grabbed a book off his dresser and held it in front of the swell as he pulled open the door.   
  
"Will your brother be joining you?" Edwards asked.  
  
"No," Nick said. "We'll let him sleep until dinner."   
  
*  
  
Nick woke up well before sunrise to eyes glittering in the dark. He tensed instinctively, his sharp inhale loud in the silence. Joe dragged his fingers soothingly through Nick's hair, touched lightly at Nick's cheeks. Nick blinked at him in the dark, at his face so close. His body was curled around Nick's, holding him to Joe's chest. Nick could feel the hard length of his dick squashed between them. The tension in Nick's body bled from fear into something more expectant. Joe pet him, his hands in Nick's hair, stroking against his shoulders, his back. He stared at him intently, silently. Nick met his eyes, his whole body tight with waiting. Joe nuzzled into his neck, suckling a little on his skin. When Joe's hips didn't shove up into him, when Joe drifted back to sleep without taking anything else from him, Nick stared at the ceiling. Disappointed.  
  
*  
  
Nick had never been one of those people who had a lot of friends. He knew a lot of people, certainly. There were plenty of people he was friendly with, friendly enough to tilt a head or play a game of tennis, receive a dinner invitation or have a conversation during intermission at the opera. But he'd always been the private sort. Even at Cambridge he'd had a bit of a reputation for being a stick in the mud, too serious-minded to be completely embraced by his peers. It wasn't unheard of for him to spend weeks at a time locked away with estate business, working until someone reminded him that he needed to come up for air. So it took him a while to notice how insular he'd become, how much his world had shrunk down to just himself and Joe.   
  
There were plenty of calls. News spread even to the most distant branch on the family tree, and people were curious; but calls were easy to ignore. Until finally they weren't.   
  
*  
  
Nick was trying to convince himself that he wasn't nervous. It wasn't going that well. He looked grimly at the mirror, tightening his tie. Today would be Joe's first real contact with people who mattered, people Nick wasn't paying to be loyal, to do exactly as he told them. It was too soon. Joe was coming along nicely, his speech steadily improving. But he wasn't-   
  
Nick glanced over as the door pushed open without a knock, unsurprised when it was Joe. Only Joe didn't knock, didn't wait for permission to enter. He stood in the doorway with his shirt buttoned up, and his suit coat on, his shoes on the right feet. He was grinning.   
  
"Look, Nicholas," he said. "I did it myself." He'd refused the valet Nick had hired for him which meant most of the time his shirts were carelessly buttoned up wrong unless Nick fastened them himself, and he never wore shoes unless Nick insisted.   
  
Nick smiled back at him. "You did." Edwards helped Nick shrug into his suit coat, neatly brushed off his shoulders. Nick motioned with his hand. "Come here," he said. "Let me see." Joe stood in front of Nick with his head bowed. His finger slid in between two of the buttons on Nick's waistcoat, tugging. Nick reached to tuck his shirt neatly into his waistband. He untangled the mess Joe had made of his tie, re-tied it smoothly. A quick swipe at Joe's hair with some pomade slicked it neatly back from his forehead. "There," Nick said. Joe's suit hung perfectly on his lean shoulders, on his lean hips. His tie was straight and his shoes were polished. His cheeks were freshly shaven. It made his eyes look bigger, made his lips look fuller somehow, pink, plush. Nick watched his tongue flick out against his lower lip, leave it wet. "Now you look-" He felt like he'd knotted his tie too tightly. "-Just right," Nick said, a small swallow clenching in his throat.   
  
*  
  
Nick was horribly self-conscious, as if he were the one on display, the one everyone was stealing obvious glances at, measuring with jaded eyes. He felt like the owner of a show dog, taking Joe through a repertoire of tricks. Most of the small party was gathered around Joe, studying him like he was an interesting specimen on a microscope slide. Joe was dealing well enough with the scrutiny so far. He shifted his weight uneasily, and he pressed himself close to Nick, leaning into Nick with his whole side; but he'd stayed calm even when one of their uncles grabbed him by the chin and tried to peer into his mouth like he was one of the man's horses.   
  
"I thought he would be more..." Nick's cousin Anna motioned vaguely with her hand, and frowned when Nick looked at her blankly. "He looks just like any other man," she said, disappointed.   
  
Nick looked at Joe, seeing the months of hard work and slow progress that made it possible for him to stand there with his back straight and a distantly polite smile on his face. He took a hard swallow of brandy and sneered. "Would you have him beating his chest and swinging from vines?"  
  
"I wouldn't have minded," she said with a wink. Nick frowned at her, his hand coming up to touch Joe's back, guide him in closer to Nick's side.  
  
"Let's hear him talk," Lady Victoria said, motioning with her glass. "Have him say something."  
  
"He _can_ hear you," Nick said.  
  
"But does he understand us?" Anna said, intrigued. "Why doesn't he speak?"  
  
"Perhaps if you spoke to him as you would any other man," Nick suggested tightly. "Instead of the way you would a child or a dog."  
  
"Hello, Joseph," Anna said, enunciating.  
  
"Hel-lo," Joe said slowly, much more slowly than he normally talked these days.   
  
"Can. You. Un-der-stand. Me?" Anna spelled out with broad hand gestures, loudly sounding each word out, her eyes opened extra wide.  
  
"Me. Joe." Joe motioned to himself. "Me. Hear. You." He cupped his ear, his brow furrowed seriously as he imitated her slow pronunciation exactly. Nick snorted. Joe's eyes flicked to him, a tiny smile curving the corner of his mouth, unnoticed by the others. Cheeky little bugger. Nick shook his head and hid his smile with his glass.   
  
"Me. An-na." She pointed to herself.   
  
"Hel-lo, An-na." Joe bent neatly over her hand, his lips just barely brushing against her skin.   
  
"What pretty manners." Anna twinkled at him, flashing her dimple.   
  
"Sounds like a two year old," their uncle Jonathan said gruffly. "But at least he looks the part."  
  
"Looks just like your mother," Victoria said.  
  
Nick smiled. He absently cupped Joe's cheek, touched the curve of his jaw. "I know," he said. Joe ducked his head, pushed his face into the curve of Nick's hand, nuzzling at his palm briefly.   
  
"How sweet!" Anna said, delighted. She clapped excitedly. "Do you think he would eat from my hand?"  
  
Nick jerked his hand back, remembering himself. He curled his fingers into a fist, tucked his fist into his pocket. "Let's stick to forks, shall we?"  
  
*  
  
Nick poured himself another drink, keeping an eye on Joe in the middle of a crush of curious onlookers on the other side of the room. There was a burst of laughter, and Nick watched Joe's forehead furrow as he tried to work out the joke. No doubt he _was_ the joke. Nick's jaw clenched, and he took a hard swallow of his brandy. He was well on his way to quite drunk. Joe cocked his head and laughed too late, the sound of it forced. Nick started to work his way back into the crowd, back to Joe. He glanced at the clock and thought about how nice it would be when all these people were finally gone. Joe met his eyes from across the room. Nick could see the strain in the way his nostrils flared, the edge of desperation in the way he looked at Nick like a thirsty man looked at water. He took a step in Nick's direction, stopped by the crowd pressing in around him. Nick smiled at him in what he hoped was a soothing way, kept meeting his eyes like Nick could force him calm through sheer force of will.   
  
He broke Joe's gaze when a hand touched him lightly on the arm. Liza Davies smiled up at him, her lips bright red. "I haven't seen you in months." She straightened his lapel, her fingers familiar.   
  
"Been a little busy," Nick said, distracted. His eyes darted back to Joe, to the way he shifted uncomfortably as strange hands touched his hair, his face.   
  
She laughed. "Rather like raising a child, isn't it?"   
  
Nick raised an eyebrow.   
  
"Can't let them out of your sight for a second." She shook her head, her sleek bobbed hair brushing against the line of her jaw.  
  
"He's not a child," Nick said gruffly.  
  
"No, but taking care of him is about as much responsibility, I would think." Nick shrugged, absently touching his own hair, the slicked curls above his forehead. "And just as exciting to watch him take his first steps. So to speak." Her hand crooked around the curve of his elbow as she looked up earnestly and smiled. "You must be very proud. He's really quite remarkable."  
  
Nick smiled back around the rim of his glass, warm pride swelling up despite himself, meeting the hot burn of the liquor as it slid down his throat. "He really is," Nick said, his tongue a little slow in his mouth. He touched her hand on his arm, some of the stiffness going out of his shoulders. "How have you been, Liza?"  
  
"Lonely," she said, teasing. "When will you come back to town?" She tugged him down by the lapel, and brushed the corner of his mouth with her red lips. She was already pulling away, smiling a little, when Nick heard a rustle of commotion. He looked up dimly just in time to catch Joe's full weight as it collided against his chest. Joe locked one arm possessively around Nick's waist. His fingers dug in hard through Nick's jacket, bunching up his waistcoat. Nick could feel the hot press of Joe's mouth against the side of his neck. Nick flushed, a slow motion roll of spiked heat tugging through him. He stumbled backwards, his legs moving too slowly, his feet tangling. They both tumbled to the ground, the breath rushing out of Nick's lungs in a shocked huff. Joe sprawled on top of him, his hands grabbing at Nick, pulling Nick's clothes askew, finding the skin of his waist. His nose nudged up into Nick's jaw.   
  
Nick realized with a detached sort of horror that he was getting hard. He stared up past Joe's shoulder, met Liza's wide eyes, caught for a moment in the way her red lips formed a perfect, shocked "o." He thought for one disoriented moment that she had seen straight through him, straight down and down into the parts of him that wanted- But then there was a high pitched shriek behind her, and the shattering of a dropped glass. And Nick realized she wasn't really looking at him. She was looking at Joe. Nick turned his head, Joe's lips wet on his neck, and the entire room was looking as Joe pressed Nick down against the ground, loomed over him heavy and hot. And they saw, not the insistent nudge of his hips, the hot flick of his tongue against Nick's skin, but the way his teeth were bared, the way his hands were rough as he jerked Nick up against his chest.  
  
Several of Nick's cousins shouted angrily and Nick watched, lethargic, everything dragging too slowly as a few of the larger footmen pushed through the crowd, rushing purposefully toward him. Nick could tell Joe had seen them too. Could feel Joe's wariness in the way his body tensed. His fingers tightened painfully, digging into Nick's ribs. An uneasy grunting started in the back of his throat. "Joe," Nick said with exaggerated calm, keeping his voice level as he watched disaster barrel down on them. "Let me up."  
  
Nick tried to push him up and off, to wrench himself free. He managed to sit up, but Joe rose into a crouch, moving quick and smooth. He twisted his strong fist in Nick's suit jacket and yanked Nick back into the curve of his body, tugging him along as Joe started to warily edge backwards. Nick struggled to lean forward, and Joe sunk his teeth abruptly into the side of Nick's neck, catching the edge of his jaw above his collar. Nick jolted, inhaling sharply. He went lax in Joe's arms, his head tipping back weakly with the hot pulse between his legs. He made a grab for the syringe in his pocket, clumsy from the brandy, from the heavy heat settled in his gut. Joe's fingers clamped down on his wrist, pressed his hand immobile to the ground. His other hand kneaded anxiously at Nick's hip. Nick panted, watched through slitted eyes as the men around them closed in. One of the footmen had a poker in his hand. Another a heavy silver serving tray.   
  
Nick held up his free hand, and they paused. "Stay back," Nick said. Joe let out a series of high pitched yelps and bit down on the back of Nick's collar, tugged hard at it with his teeth. "He's not hurting me," Nick said when the men surged forward another step. Joe dragged Nick with him as he backed up another few feet closer to the wall, to the long row of windows that lined the dining room.   
  
Nick struggled to catch a breath, his collar tight on his throat. "Just give him- Some room," he said. His eyes flicked fitfully from the men inching closer, to the ladies, the gentlemen staring, gaping behind them. His dick was a shameful throb. His face was hot. "Joe," he said, his voice hoarse. He clenched his jaw and pulled his tie loose, yanked his collar open to give himself some room to breathe. " _Joe_ ," he said, and Joe stilled.   
  
Nick reached up behind him, patting clumsily against the side of Joe's face, against his soft, thick hair. Joe nuzzled into the top of Nick's head, his breath coming in hard gusts, one hand up underneath Nick's disheveled shirt, kneading. He tugged a little at Nick's hair with his teeth, his weight shifting uneasily. There was a low growl in his throat. "It's all right," Nick said, reaching behind himself, his hand clasped at the nape of Joe's neck, holding tight. "Just- Just let me stand up, and I'll make them all go away." His fingers stroked Joe's hair awkwardly. Joe's chin nudged into the back of his head. The men were hesitating. Almost, Nick thought. Almost, almost. He fumbled at his pocket, fished the syringe out. If he could just- He flicked the cap off and moved to jab the needle into Joe's arm where it hitched up against his ribs. Joe shoved him hard, snarling as Nick toppled over onto the floor, the needle stabbing at the air. Nick watched Tom, the big footman with the poker, adjust his grip on the weapon, watched them all surge forward. Nick clenched the syringe in his fist, rose to his feet as Joe screamed, piercing.   
  
Joe grabbed glassware from the sideboard, threw it at the advancing men, driving them back a few steps, forcing them to duck and dodge. Glass shattered against the ground around them. A thick tumbler smashed dully into the cheek of a well dressed gentleman Nick barely knew. Several of the ladies shrieked, making for the door. The men kept coming. Joe spun, his chest heaving with rising screams as he hurled one of the heavy wooden chairs at the window behind them. It exploded outward in a shower of glass, and then his hands were on Nick, dragging him off balance. The syringe was in Nick's hand. Nick twisted, his struggling slowing Joe down enough that the men closed in before he reached the window.   
  
Nick pushed at the hands that grabbed for them. "Step back," he bellowed, but for once his orders were ignored. An elbow landed in his gut, a flurry of hands hurting as they ripped him from Joe's grip. He heard his suit tear. He kicked out, lashed out, his fists colliding with something solid. He was shoved roughly, efficiently, until he was outside the seething group of them, stumbling off balance when his fists and feet flailed against nothing. He threw himself at the back of the man closest to him, and was tossed off, sent sprawling onto his backside.  
  
Joe fought fierce and wild and _fast_ , with heavy fists and gouging fingers and bared teeth, with unrestrained fury that drove them all back for a moment. But there were too many of them. Nick watched as a fist cracked across Joe's jaw, as that heavy serving platter clanged a glancing blow across his temple. He was bleeding over one eye, and they twisted his arms behind his back, forced him down to the ground. He panted, the side of his face pressed to the tiled floor with a heavy hand.   
  
"Stop!" Nick yelled, trying to shove his way back through the crowd of them. A fist slammed into Joe's cheek while they held him down, and Nick watched him blink, groggy with the blow, his body moving weakly, his lips pulled back in a snarl.  
  
Nick climbed up on the table, grabbed the gigantic crystal bowl at the head of it, still half filled with punch. He raised it up over his head, barely feeling the weight as he smashed it down against the ground and screamed. He threw a plate against the wall with a crash, and another, his voice scraping raw as he screamed again. He was shaking, his hands clenched into fists and he wanted to use them, wanted to hit and hit until his knuckles gave or he broke bone. The room went deadly silent, and the crowd of men drew back away from Joe under the force of his glare. Big Tom was kneeling, his hand spread wide across the back of Joe's neck, his knee planted at the small of Joe's back.  
  
"Up," Nick said, his voice all icy hauteur, and when the man didn't move fast enough, he roared, "Get UP!"   
  
"Sir," he said uncertainly, easing up off Joe. The threat of violence was still there in the tense way the men hovered. Joe lay still, his breath coming hard through his nose, blood dripping down into his eye. Nick turned his glare on the men, and said. "Out. All of you."   
  
"But my lord-" one of them tried.  
  
"If he attacks you again-"  
  
"Do you question me?" Nick grabbed another plate off the table and hurled it at the wall. Kicked over a chair and watched them back away from him with hesitant bows.   
  
Edwards hovered at the door. "Ice," Nick said, his voice rough with screaming. "Bring me fresh ice, and a hand towel. Bring me a bandage, something to soak up this damned blood." He jumped down off the table, his heart beating too fast, a roaring still in his ears, rage making everything seem dim and far away.   
  
Joe had pulled himself up off the floor. He slunk away from Nick in a down low crouch, moving furtively, a little stiff. His shiny dress shoes disappeared under the linens as he ducked under the table. Nick lifted up the tablecloth and followed him underneath, tried to tuck the anger away, tried make himself gentle.   
  
Nick touched Joe's back gingerly. He was making soft little hooting noises, a distressed chirp of a sound. Nick touched the bruise on his temple, the swelling around his eye. He brushed at the blood dripping into Joe's eyebrow, streaking down his cheek. "It's all right now," he said. He rubbed his hand absently against his shirt, smearing the crisp white with red. "It's all right." Joe grabbed Nick's hand and pressed it to his own hair, petting himself roughly with Nick's hand. Nick ran his fingers through Joe's hair, stroked the back of his neck soothingly. Joe inched forward, his nose nudging cautiously up into the curve of Nick's neck, his breath ticklish on Nick's skin. His hand touched at Nick's bent knee. His fingernails were bloody, the sides of his hands swollen.   
  
Nick touched Joe's mouth where his lip was split in the corner, swelling. Joe's tongue flicked out, touched his bloody lip, pressed against the tips of Nick's fingers. Nick slid his thumb just a little bit in, into the wet heat of Joe's mouth. His fingers tightened in Joe's hair until Joe let out a low whimper. "It's all right," Nick whispered. His forehead bumped up against Joe's forehead, Joe's hand clutching at his lapel in squeezing jerks. Nick let out a shaky breath, his eyes wide open as he pressed his lips to Joe's bruised mouth.  
  
Nick licked at Joe's lips, at the hot wet inside of his mouth, tasted the tinge of blood. Joe kissed him back in little kittenish licks, hungry pushes of his lips that grew more insistent until a low growl rumbled in Joe's throat, and he surged forward. His teeth caught Nick's bottom lip, his weight tipping Nick onto his back. Joe's hands were in Nick's hair, finding his skin under his shirt. His tongue was a hot slide into Nick's mouth, his dick nudging in hard shoves. Joe grunted, his mouth moving against Nick's, saying, "Mine." Nick whimpered, his hips grinding up helplessly against Joe's.   
  
Footsteps tapped sharply against the tile. Two sets of footsteps. Nick's hips stuttered, his breath catching, his hand tight in Joe's shirt. He watched the shadow of legs walking just outside the thin tablecloth that hid them. Joe sucked at Nick's throat where his collar was open, licked at the bite mark he'd left, suckled at the collar of Nick's shirt. Nick's eyelids drooped, his body heavy, his cock a stiff ache. He let out a trembling breath, quiet, as his hips moved more slowly now, his dick sliding up against Joe's. Careful as the footsteps paused, careful as he took another shaky breath, as Joe's hips moved against him in long, slow pushes. Joe bit down on Nick's throat, on Nick's collarbone, tugging with his teeth. Nick stifled a moan, the little choked off noise he made sounding like a shout in the quiet.  
  
"My lord?" Edwards said.   
  
Joe tensed, Nick's skin between his teeth, his cock pressed against Nick, his hips moving in restless pushes. Nick could see Edwards' shoes under the edge of the tablecloth. Right there, not a foot from Nick's nose. It hit him like a bucket of cold water. He took in a gasping breath, suddenly aware of himself sprawled on the ground, his pants tented around his cock, his mouth swollen. He sat up abruptly, pushing Joe back onto his heels. Joe's hand rubbed at his hard cock, his face twisted up with it as he tugged at himself through his pants. Nick watched Joe working himself over, watched Joe's open mouth, his rough hand. Nick touched himself distractedly, his breath coming hard through his mouth.  
  
"I thought I heard something," a man said. The footsteps started up again, pacing the length of the table. Nick ran a hand through his hair, trying to tame the mess Joe had made of him. "Stay," Nick mouthed to Joe, and crawled out from under the table. Edwards was standing there with Russell Allen, one of Nick's cousins, the two of them watching him pull himself awkwardly to his feet. He was uncomfortably aware that his clothes looked like someone had been grabbing them, that his cheeks were flushed hot, that his dick was hard. His mouth felt fat, sore. He rubbed at his lips with his fist, cleared his throat. He felt slow, fuzzy-headed. He tried to focus.   
  
Edwards had placed a bowl of ice on the table, clean towels stacked up next to it. He hovered as Nick bundled up a handful of ice in one of the towels. It was unlike him to be intrusive.   
  
"That will be all," Nick said, glancing over. The man bent his head, his elegant hands twisting in front of him.   
  
"My lord, you know they were trying to protect you…" he said tentatively.  
  
"I appreciate their concern," Nick said, his voice brittle. A hand reached out from under the table cloth, fingers wrapping around Nick's ankle. Nick thought of Joe crouched under the table with that hand on his dick, with his mouth open around a pant. Nick flushed to the roots of his hair.  
  
"They thought he attacked you," Edwards said carefully. "It _appeared_ that he was-"  
  
"I appreciate their concern," Nick said again, a little short of breath. He raised his eyebrows, meeting Edwards' eyes, falling back on years of habit to force his voice calm, decisive. "And that will be all." Edwards stiffened his shoulders and inclined his head. His footsteps echoed as he walked to the door. It seemed to take a long time.   
  
"Bit harsh, weren't you?" Russell said, his voice carefully casual. Nick frowned. He didn't mind the man under normal circumstances. He was a good hand at tennis and not too bad at golf either. He'd spent some time in the service, seemed a rational man, a hard worker, which Nick tended to respect. But right now Nick was in no mood.   
  
"It's not as if I'm going to sack the lot of them." Nick hesitated for a moment, but he hadn't heard anything from under the table for a while; and Joe needed his wounds treated. He knelt down and flipped the tablecloth back, relieved to find Joe crouching in his rumpled suit. Not doing anything- Untoward. He held out a hand, coaxing Joe from under the table. Joe hooked his hand in the back of Nick's pants, his head tilted into Nick's hip. He left another smear of blood on Nick's shirt. Nick pressed one of the towels to the gash on his forehead. "Please tell anyone lingering that my hospitality has reached a most definite end."  
  
Russell cocked his head, staring at Joe for a long moment. He turned and walked over to the bar, his shoes crunching over broken glass. "I understand your loyalty to him," he said, pouring himself a finger of whiskey. He dug an unbroken tumbler out of the mess on the sideboard and fixed a second drink. "I understand that he's your blood." Joe's fingers moved inside the waistband of Nick's pants, stroking against his sweaty skin. He pressed his tongue to Nick's waistcoat. Nick shuddered. He tightened his hand on Joe's shoulder, his thumb stroking against his neck. Russell crunched his way back to the table, and handed Nick a drink. "To steady your nerves," he said.  
  
Nick gritted his teeth, ignored the drink until Russell set it down on the table. Nick took Joe's hand, wrapped his fingers around the towel Nick was pressing to Joe's face. "Like that," he said softly. "Hold it there." Joe shifted uneasily, his eyes flicking from Nick to Russell. Nick pet his head, dragged his fingers through Joe's hair.   
  
"You must know he's dangerous," Russell said. "Harold's cheek is shattered. One of your men has a cracked rib." He raised an eyebrow. "You look a sight yourself." He touched Nick's throat, touched his collarbone. Nick thought of Joe's mouth on his skin, hot, the hard tug of his teeth raising bruises. Nick let out a hard huff of breath, winded, his dick a heavy throb. Joe lurched forward, stopped by Nick's fist bunched in the back of his jacket. The bandage dropped forgotten from his hand. His lips pulled back in a snarl, a threatening grunting starting in the back of his throat.   
  
"And he's dripping blood," Nick said, grabbing another bandage off the table. "Your point?"   
  
"This is my point," Russell said, motioning to Nick's hand straining to hold Joe back. The jacket slipped on Joe's arms. Nick curled his fingers in the collar of Joe's shirt instead, giving himself a better grip, his fingers pressing up against the nape of Joe's neck. "It's not safe. He's not safe. Look at him. You can't-"   
  
"He spent twenty years in the jungle," Nick said. "It can't all be undone in a few months. All he needs is time."  
  
"And in the meantime?" Russell said. He motioned again at Joe. Joe grunted angrily, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "There are places you could send him." Joe jerked forward again, a raw "No!" scraping from his throat. His fist pounded against his chest.   
  
"For Christ's sake," Nick said. "He can hear you. He's not a goddamn animal." He struggled to keep his grip. Joe lurched again, choking when he was caught up against his collar. "And I'm not going to _lock him up_ ," Nick said, unable to keep his voice from rising to a shout. Joe screamed too, wordless. Nick tightened his grip helplessly as Joe raged, proving the wrong point.   
  
"If you can't control him, you may not have a choice."  
  
Joe grabbed at Nick anxiously, pressing his face into Nick's belly, smearing blood across his shirt. Nick wrapped an arm around his shoulders, shushing him as gently as he could when Nick was trembling with rage. He fished the syringe out of his pocket. "This conversation is over." If he could just get rid of these people, just give Joe time to calm down. Dammit, he'd know this was too soon. He never should have let them bully their way in. "And if you're not all out of my house by the time I-" He cupped his hand around the base of Joe's skull, jabbed the needle at Joe's arm. Joe moved suddenly, a hard hand on Nick's wrist, a quick jab of his hand, so fast Nick was left staring dumbly at the needle in his own arm as if it had appeared there by magic.  
  
He blinked slowly, stumbling back a step. "What-" he said dimly. Joe was reaching for him, and he pushed at Joe's hands, stumbling again as his vision started to go dark. He could hear Russell saying something, yelling something. It sounded like it was coming from very far away. He closed his eyes, dizzy as the world spun. When he opened them he was staring upside down at Joe's pants. He was flung over Joe's shoulder, Joe's hands rough on his waist. Everything was moving too much, rolling like a ship on the sea. He clutched weakly at Joe's jacket. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was the window as Joe carried him through it.  
  
*  
  
There was the musk of come on his lips, thick and a little bitter. His tongue flicked out, tasting. He tried to open his eyes, only one blinking half open. Everything spun. His forehead furrowed slowly, his mind sluggish. He reached up clumsily to feel at his face, his fingers bumping uncoordinated against his neck, touching the slick that marked his cheek, stuck his eyelashes together. He rubbed at his eye, poked bluntly at his chest, digging in with his fingernails. His skin felt strange. He was naked. Sore. Where was he?   
  
Nick turned his head blindly as a tongue swept up his neck, left wet trails over his chest, his stomach. He felt wet all over. His head was heavy as he tried to lift it. He felt a distant niggle of unease, and then it slid away under the heat of skin on his skin, the hungry swipe of a tongue into his mouth. He arched up into the heat on top of him, the weight on top of him, the teeth that moved against his skin, possessive. Familiar. He pressed the ache of his naked dick against hot skin, his hips shifting. A nose nudged into his neck, into his armpit, hard breath tickling. There was a sound rumbling against his chest, something halfway between a purr and a growl.   
  
Hands. There were hands on him, hot on his skin. He was hot. He whimpered as teeth closed sharply on his hipbone. He felt itchy with sweat, with the sharp, tight ache of his balls. He felt slow like dreaming, everything broken apart into the heave of his breath, the soft nudge of a nose into the crease of his thigh, the heavy stiffness of his dick. His heels skidded, his body moving restless with need, hot, hot between his legs. Wet heat circled around his dick, and he gasped a slow shuddering breath, his eyes slitting open. His head was pounding, and it was dark. There were stars above him, pinpricks of bright light that felt like they were falling, like they were pressing him down and down and they were hot like skin and his back arched, his hips jerking as he came. His release felt muffled, unwinding slowly.  
  
Nick raised his head weakly, his temple throbbing, everything too heavy. Joe looked up at him, his face dirty streaked with the dried blood that was caked on his temple, in his eyebrow. His cheek was bruised, his hair was tangled, his body was bare, and his mouth was full of Nick's dick. He looked like a wild thing, his eyes dark, his hands rough on Nick's thighs. He suckled hard, his mouth going wetter, come overflowing from between his lips, dripping down onto Nick's balls. His fingers ran through the mess, a low growling moan vibrating around Nick's dick. His tongue was pressing up against the underside of Nick's tender cock with every greedy suck. It was too much. Too sharp edged; hurt like it was happening somewhere deep and far away. Nick whined, his head banging softly against the pillow under his head. Where was he?   
  
He could hear someone calling him. Not by his name. "My lord," they said, like a question. It sounded like it was shouted from the end of a long tunnel. He looked at Joe blankly, swallowed up in the heavy, hungry way Joe stared back at him, disoriented for a moment before he understood that the voice was coming from the grounds. It was several voices, raised. He closed his eyes, his head throbbing harder as jagged little flashes of memory came back to him. Russell had seen Joe take him. They must have been searching the gardens, the woods for him. It was only a matter of time before they called in the police, and what if they charged Joe with something- What if they took him- He'd never- Locked up in some-   
  
He should- He needed to get up. He needed to let them know that he was alright. He needed- Nick whimpered, his cock a sore ache in Joe's mouth. He pushed at Joe's head feebly. Joe's wet fingers stroked over Nick's hole, testing, pressing just a little bit inside. Nick's hands buried themselves in the soft fall of his hair, holding on. Joe's mouth slid off his dick, the night air a cold shock. Joe chased dripping come down Nick's dick, down to his balls. He lapped eagerly at the mess, made a little grunting noise as he took one of Nick's balls into his mouth, gave it a sharp suck. Nick gasped. His finger pressed into Nick again, working deeper. Nick clenched tight around the come slicked push of them inside, his thighs shaking. His breath went hard.   
  
Joe's tongue flicked out in hungry, sloppy licks, edging lower. He made a frustrated noise, and knelt up, grabbing Nick's arms, urging Nick over onto his stomach. Nick rolled in the sheets, the blankets piled up underneath him. Joe's hands were firm on his hips, tilting his ass up. Nick rubbed his face restlessly into the blankets underneath him, staring from close up at his own sheets. He wondered vaguely why his sheets were outside. Where was he? Everything spun, making him dizzy. He closed his eyes.  
  
Joe licked wide stripes on the inside of his thigh, sucking hard at his skin, biting. He rubbed his face over Nick's back, his cheek nuzzling, his breath hot on Nick's skin. He bit down on the dip at the base of Nick's spine, bit down on the swell of Nick's ass, tugging with his teeth, touching with his hands. He spread Nick's ass cheeks wide, his face nudging up into Nick's crack. His breath was damp and ticklish, and his tongue was wet as he touched it to Nick's hole. Nick jerked, flushing hotter, breath catching, everything that had been slow and muffled going suddenly too bright and close.   
  
"Oh, don't-" he said weakly. He could feel each of Joe's fingers digging in hard against his hip, wrapped tight around his thigh, holding him still for the hungry stroke of Joe's tongue. He could feel the way his ass was spread, the slight roughness of stubble brushing his skin, the vivid wet touch of Joe's tongue moving against him, hot and strange and dirty against him there- He tried again to squirm away, hands clenching as Joe's tongue prodded at him with a slippery wet press, lapped at him eagerly. He blushed, his teeth caught on his lower lip, his nostrils flared. This was obscene. This was- Undignified. This felt- He bit down hard on his lip, tried not to make the helpless noises that were catching in his throat. They sounded personal, like telling all his very worst secrets. Like anyone could hear them. He shuddered as he heard those distant voices calling his name. His face was hot with shame, his insides liquid, his dick stiff. He was so hard. He rolled his hips helplessly, pushed back on the wet stab of Joe's tongue, his asshole clenching, greedy. He tightened his fists in the sheets to keep himself from reaching for his dick. He was trembling, straining to keep control of himself, to keep himself quiet and still and not beg.  
  
Joe reached between Nick's legs, his hand circled around Nick's dick, tugging rough on his shaft, on his balls. Tugging them back between his legs. He rubbed his face over the slick head of Nick's cock, over his heavy balls and then buried his face back in Nick's ass. His tongue teased, a long drag, a hard, wet little jab opening Nick up for the push of it. His hand was hot on Nick's dick. Nick whimpered, sweaty, dizzy-hot, pulling at the sheets with his teeth. Twisting need wound in him tighter until he was shaking, his body locked around it, his hands clenching reflexively in the blankets, his hips jerking. Until his eyes were wet, and he heaved an overwhelmed, choked off sob as he came and came.   
  
He sagged, light-headed, the top of his head balanced in the sheets. He felt exhausted, felt almost like he'd been drugged again, slow and heavy. He looked upside down through his braced thighs, watched as Joe touched himself, his hands shiny with Nick's come. Joe's fist slid down the length of his hard dick, back up again. His hand smeared wet up Nick's spine, his legs crowded up behind Nick's. Joe touched his asshole with his fingers, pushed one in, rough. Nick rocked with it, a little surprised at how his body just gave, letting Joe inside him with a low groan in his throat. Nick blinked groggily, bent his body to look back past his shoulder, to look behind him as Joe fit the blunt head of his cock against Nick's ass. Nick watched Joe's mouth fall open in a pant, his teeth bared, eyes going narrow as his cock pressed in. Nick felt himself start to stretch around it, felt a fleeting little twitch of shame when he leaned back into it, spread his knees wide for the thick burn as Joe started to work himself inside with rough jolts. He pulled out a little, made a desperate sound, and forced himself back in deeper, working Nick open on his dick. His hands were hard on Nick's hips, his dick a jagged push until he was snugged all the way up inside. Until Nick was filled with him, big and hard and hot. Nick was breathing lightly, too fast. Nick stared down at the sheets underneath him, trying to get used to the way it felt to be opened up around him.   
  
"Nicholas." Joe's voice went soft and warm around Nick's name, each syllable drawn out between his lips, shaky and awed. Nick's back bowed, his neck flushing, his hips lifting as Joe started to move in needy little thrusts, as he fucked into him. Joe made a strangled yowling noise, half moan, half snarl. His body curved sweaty over Nick's back. He bit down hard on Nick's shoulder, on the nape of his neck. The heat of him at Nick's back, the curve of his body, the push of his hips felt familiar. But the hard press of him inside felt like a shock every time he thumped back in, his hips rolling smoothly now, his dick a hot, tight slide. God, it felt- Nick's eyes rolled back as Joe's dick pressed against something inside him that tangled Nick up in heat, that made him moan helpless and loud.   
  
Joe's hands were rough on his face, turning his head so Joe could press his lips to Nick's mouth, press his nose flat against Nick's cheek. His tongue slicked against Nick's lips, against his chin. He mouthed at the curve of Nick's jaw. The low rumble in his chest vibrated against Nick's back, his hips smacking against Nick's ass as he rode him. His hand curved over Nick's shoulder, pulling him down onto the hard thrust of his cock, getting deeper inside. Nick's dick felt sore, ached like it was trying to get hard again. He cupped his hand around that ache, rubbed at his dick with the heel of his hand. His eyes closed, and there was nothing but the slide of Joe's dick, the thick push of it filling him up.   
  
Joe tensed behind him, his teeth closing on Nick's shoulder as he slid in deep and held there, coming in long pulses. His weight settled on Nick's back, boneless and heavy. Nick sank down into the sheets under him, wrung out, pinned down by his sweat and his skin. Joe nuzzled into his neck, wetting the hair behind his ear with lazy swipes of his tongue. His hips moved slowly, still rocking into Nick a little, wringing choked sounds from Nick's throat. His arms slid around Nick's chest, holding him as he rolled them both onto their sides. Nick lay trembling and wrecked against him, his body heavy. Joe licked his cheek soothingly, making soft noises in his ear as his dick finally slipped free. Nick's breath caught on a pained hiss as Joe replaced his dick with curious fingers, touching him inside where he was sore and wet. He stroked into Nick possessively before pulling his fingers out, tasting them with a pleased rumble. He touched at the come streaked across Nick's belly, on his face, on his thighs. His hands stroked over Nick's skin, petting, petting. He buried his face in the curve of Nick's neck, his mouth open, his tongue gentle on Nick's skin. Nick curled into the heat of him, his eyelids heavier with every blink.   
  
*  
  
Nick dreamed of the jungle, damp air and muggy heat. Joe smiled down from where he crouched on a low hanging tree limb. He wore a tuxedo, the ends of his bowtie dangling against the starched white of his shirt. Nick looked at him, shading his eyes with his hand to block the bright sun. Joe offered Nick a hand up. Nick shook his head.   
  
"Come down," Nick called. Joe cocked his head. He started toward Nick, walking on all fours, his bare feet and hands curved around the thick branch. He swung suddenly, his knees hooked over the branch. He hung upside down, his suit jacket flipped up behind his head. He grinned. Nick laughed, reached out to touch his upside down face.   
  
There was a shot, a deep boom that echoed against the trees. Nick flinched, curling in on himself, his hands flying to cover his head. When he cautiously looked up, Joe was sliding off the branch. He landed in a heap on the ground at Nick's feet. There was blood, bright red on his white shirt. Nick turned his head, listening to the crashing noises all around them. There were men in the bushes, men in top hats and tails, edging their way closer with guns on their shoulders.   
  
Nick looked down at his empty hands, felt at his pockets for a weapon, but he didn't have any pockets. He didn't have any trousers. He realized with a start that he was naked, his fingernails caked with dirt, his hair a tangled mess. He crouched down beside Joe, touched his face with his dirty hands, watched blood bubble from the corner of his mouth.   
  
Nick dreamed of men hunting. Of Joe tangled in their nets, of Joe dragged along the ground, dragged away from Nick with their guns aimed at his head. And when Nick screamed for them to stop, all that came from his mouth was a wordless snarl.   
  
He woke with a blink, the dream vivid behind his eyes, panic caught in his throat. His hips were rocking, his forehead wrinkled up. Joe was behind him, his skin catching against Nick's back, his heat driving off the early morning chill. Nick could feel his dick tucked up inside, stretching him out, filling him up. He rocked anxiously back onto it, still slicked up inside with Joe's come. The sore slide of Joe's dick felt like reassurance, the hot shove of it burning off the uneasy clutch of the dream. He curled his fists until his fingernails bit painfully into his skin. He touched the drying crust of come on his neck, on his chest. He pressed down on the bruises Joe had left on his neck until the dull hurt throbbed under his fingertips. This was real.   
  
They were on the roof. They were tucked in under the blankets Nick recognized from his own bed. Joe was here with him. This was real. They were safe. But they couldn't stay here forever and down there- He thought of those people searching the grounds for him, thought of trying to make them believe Joe was anything but dangerous. He could still feel that dream clutching at him, unsettling.   
  
Nick reached back to grab at Joe's ass, his thigh, to give himself the leverage to take Joe deeper. Joe's hands moved sleepily on his waist. Joe pet at Nick's belly, and Nick craned his head to watch Joe's eyes blink open. Joe palmed Nick's skin, kneading, smiling soft and trusting with his face bruised, a nasty gash over his eyebrow. He nuzzled into the curve of Nick's shoulder, bumped his nose into Nick's cheek. Nick whimpered, fucking back impatiently into the slow shove of Joe's dick. He needed to feel it. Joe's hand circled his throat possessively, his thumb rubbing against the curve of his jaw, the slope of his neck. He thrust into Nick in thick jabs, the sore ache building, Nick's dick a heavy throb. Nick felt broken apart inside, a little frantic. He brought Joe's hand up to his lips, bit down on Joe's wrist, sucking at the underside where the veins traced blue, where his heartbeat thudded fast under Nick's tongue. He bit down on the meat of Joe's palm, said "Never" with his voice muffled in Joe's skin. "Never let them take you."   
  
This wasn't a dream. This was real. And Nick had the weight of his name to throw behind him, the whole wealth of his estate. He fucked back onto Joe's dick, reaching to fist his hand tight in Joe's hair. No one took what was his. He bared his teeth. This was his brother. This was his.  
  
end


End file.
